I look up, shot of poison in my blood to dull the truth, face peering the starry obsidian sky, while the moon scoffs at how insignificant I am. The cool night breeze brings no comfort to me...memories and feelings that pour into absolutely nothing flood what's left of my voice. Emptiness reigns supreme as the night draws fog and tears.

I desperately seek for unknown solace in the crimson void...
...a glimmer of hope perhaps? Maybe even a shred of lost dignity...a missing piece of the puzzle stained with blue and black...and yet, those prayers and wishes remain unheard, don't they?  
Salvation seems silent, isn't it?

How miniscule and worthless am I compared to a million light years of galaxies?... Infinite constellations I can only dream of reaching? Of shooting stars that will never land for me.

Hope springs eternal, still, in these dank hours.
It will come for me...that  drop of hope will come for me someday.

Father time, I seek not what's lost, but please heal what's left of me...bring forth a burst of colors in this old tattered canvas of an inebriated man. And let all nights be of sleep and restoration once again...